Satan's Twin Brother
by Samsquatch67
Summary: On a routine hunt, Sam is attacked and caught by a monster. A day later, it tries to kill the youngest Winchester. "And I can't breathe without you, but I have to. Breathe without you, but I have to." Taylor Swift, Breathe. "I'm dying, but I can't scream." Owl City, Wolf Bite. (One-shot)


**Hey guys :D VanillaJ1967 And I wrote this! YAy first co-written fic in a while, even if it is short!;) So, we have a weird style together, because we RP it, but you can look past that, right? ;) :D**

**I hope you all find this interesting, it came from a crazy idea on an 'All generator RPG site.' LOL**

Sam had never really thought about it. About how people came up with the idea that the devil had horns and a tail, was big and red and humanoid. Well, up until now. As he stared at the creature walked towards him again. Sure, it didn't have a tail, but it was tall, muscled, almost a sickly red, and had horns. Every odd idea in peoples heads had to have come from somewhere, right?

He had been captured for a day, or, he guessed it was a day. They'd thought it was a windeigo. It lived in the right area, the people were never found again... but obviously, they were wrong.

He swallowed ruffly as the think stopped somewhere in front of him, making an angry growling sound as it stopped, it's hideous facial features twisting into some thought or emotion Sam couldn't place. He was inside of something that was like a cage, but made out of brambles, twisted tree roots, and branches. Like some kind of animals home. It was small, but big enough for all of his 6'4 size to fit inside. The creature was stalking outside of it. He had been knocked out the previous day, and had only woken up an hour ago, right there. He didn't know where Dean was, and frankly, he was trying not to think about it:Trying to focus more on getting away. And why the h#ll hadn't the monster just killed him outright. Frankly, if he had to guess, it was entertainment for it. Watching human's fear and pain. Perhaps it had nothing better to do.

And since Sam had been hunting all his life, been through many of these situations before, there was only one thing truly on his mind: What had happened to Dean?

*DEAN'S POV*

Dean had tracked... and tracked. He and Sam had come to the forest yesterday. They'd split up, Sam heading north, while he himself had gone South. They had agreed to meet back in the clearing beside the Impala... and Dean had waited, and waited, calling Sam's cell several times. With no reply, he'd gone looking for his younger brother. He'd kept calling Sam's phone, and eventually found it, ringing, vibrating across a patch of dirt where it had been dropped along with Sam's gun, flare gun, and lock picking kit.

"D mnit." Dean had muttered, picking the items up. He'd taken the things back to the Impala, then gone out after Sam. All night and all the following day he'd searched. Now, the sun was setting again. It was cold, and windy, and Dean was going to be sure Sam knew EXACTLY what lengths he was going through to find him.

"When I find you, you're gonna owe me BIG TIME, Sammy." Dean whispered as he walked along, talking to Sam even though the twenty-two year old wouldn't hear him. He walked along, zipping his jacket up and shaking his head, grunting at the biting wind that stung his face like a thousand shards of glass.

He knew he was close. Dean had tracked the creature here. After all, one couldn't escape without leaving a trace... not when that one was carrying his giant of a baby brother. He would have laughed at that, if the situation were a better one.

Dean could see a cliff in the distance. In that cliff, there were many caves. He knew now that whatever they had been hunting, it WASN'T a windego, as they had at first thought it might be... so Dean had ditched the flair gun, and brought only his handgun, hoping that whatever had taken Sam wasn't invinsible to silver bullets.

The older Winchester headed toward the cliffs, muttering almost silently to himself as he moved along. Was he worried about Sam? Of course he was, but he couldn't help his brother by worrying too much... he'd worry when he found him, after he killed the son of a b!tch who'd taken him in the first place. 'And', he thought, 'if Sam's hurt, the D mn thing that did it is gonna be sorry.' Dean thought, nodding to himself and advancing.

SAM"S POV*

Sam huffed out an almost annoyed sounding breath, shifting in the 'cage'. The creature looked once out of the cave's mouth, before it prowled back towards where he was in the back of the cave, kneeling down and coming face to face with him. It's breath smelled almost like sulfur, it's face was gnarly and a sharp-toothed smile was plastered on it. Sam clacked his teeth together, nostrils flaring as he stared defiantly back into red-ish yellow eyes.

With an angered howl it tore the branches and roots apart, fighting them as if trying to unwind tangled yarn. Sam flinched as a hand shot through the gaping hole, nails grabbing his throat and ripping him out of the prison that he had been held. He yelped in surprise, his throat working as he swallowed convulsively. The giant monster slammed him back against the cave wall, trying to strike a reaction of fear into it's next victim. Sam gagged as his feet didn't reach the ground any longer, his boots scraped against the wall as he tried to find any support, anything at all. He tried to keep the panic out of his eyes. He did.

But his air was being cut off, and he couldn't stop from making a distressed guttural sound. The creature in front of him looked pleased with itself as it got to wanted reaction finally. Sam couldn't have cared less anymore. It felt like his throat was being crushed in.

*DEAN'S POV*

Dean walked slowly up a winding, stone path. He'd followed the tracks, finding that they led straight up the side of the cliffs on a two-foot-wide path. He checked every cave as he passed it, not having found Sam, or the creature yet.

He walked along silently, booted feet silently landing in front of each other. He listened past the wind, hoping to hear some sound of life. Things were begining to set in to Dean's mind. Sam had been gone for a full day now. He hadn't heard from him... 'He's fine.' Dean told himself, shaking off the sick feeling that was slowly attempting to choke him.

He walked onward.

Dean paused for a moment, listening. He thought he'd heard something... what? He waited, hoping to hear some sound that would lead him to a specific cave so that he wouldn't have to search every one. 'C'mon Sammy, I know you're here somewhere... c'mon, I just need to know where you are.' Dean thought, closing his eyes as if that would help him hear better... and maybe it did.

*SAM'S POV*

Sam struggled harder, his vision starting to blurr and appear to have black spots dancing in front of them, across the creature's face. Like a disco ball overhead was shinning down black spots and blurry grey light. He could have laughed at that. Maybe he was just drunk, in a bar, and seeing Dean as a giant horned monster. But he knew better, knew he was in a cave, being suffocated to death by the thing's hand.

Sam gagged again, more of a wheezing of his brother's name, and he would have been able to tell the difference, if it wasn't in this situation. His eyes rolled up into the back of his head, shoes kicking out at the thing in a last attempt, weakly, more like wet noodles from a spoon. His blue-tinted lips parted, in one last desperate attempt to get air into his lungs. His chest couldn't rise, his chest couldn't fall, he couldn't breath.

*DEAN'S POV*

Dean had started walking again, having not heard the sound for some time. However, only seconds later, it came back... there it was. He froze, he knew that sound. Sam's voice, whispering his name.

In that instant, Dean was running. The small path was dangerously thin, but at that point in time, Dean didn't care. Sam was in trouble, and Dean was doing what he was trained to do; what he'd grown up doing, and what he would always do. He was hunting a monster, and saving his little brother; protect Sammy. Not because John had said so, although that may have had a part in it... but mostly because Sam was his brother, he wanted to take care of him.

A moment later, Dean swung into the cave that the sound had come from, stopping as his eyes adjusted to the minimal light. There was a giant satan-look-alike, holding Sam against a wall... and... and Sam wasn't moving, wasn't fighting. 'D mnit, no, you better be fine.' Dean though desperately.

He raised his gun, giving the monster no chance to get away. He pulled the trigger once, twice, three times.

POP

POP

POP

The monster jolted, jerked and flinched after each bullet lodged itself in his red hide. The satan-creature toppled backward, glaring with wide, angry, bright eyes at Dean. He aimed at the thing, waiting for the right moment. With a snarl, the beast lunged at him, arms forward, sharp teeth bared. Dean pulled the trigger, watching as the red-satan-thing's brains spattered, and it dropped to the ground... as did Sam.

Dean rushed forward, dropping to his knees beside his brother. He set his Taurus handgun down, checking Sam's pulse. "D mnit, c'mon Sammy... Come on!" he commanded, waiting, hoping... even praying that it would be there.

*SAM'S POV*

He was in a land of darkness, like a void, somewhere but nowhere. It had to have been somewhere, unconsciousness, because everyone went there, whether a dreamless night of hyperventilating, or getting hit in the head hard enough to knock themselves out. People went there, in that place of nothing, in that nowhere, that's where they went. He didn't know why, but for a brief moment, he wondered if you tried, if you could see other people there, too.

Slowly he felt something, something touching his neck, but it wasn't the rough skin of the creature, it was something else. Vaguely, he imagined Dean's voice, the smell of gunpowder, leather, cologne. He scrunched his nose, wearily pulling his eyes open. Dean was okay. That was a plus. He met worried green eyes, opening his mouth to breath the Winchester's famous words, *I'm fine*, but nothing came out. Confusion was what he felt at first as he tried again, trying to form words, instead only gaping like a fish on land. His face scrunched in confusion, until he figured out what the problem was: He still couldn't breath. His eyes widened considerably, his hands flying up to his throat, adrenaline giving him the strength to sit up and fingers grasping his throat, desperately trying to pull in a breath. He turned bright hazel eyes toward Dean, silent begging spoken,'Fix it,' 'help'

Dean was relieved that Sam was alive. However, Sam's next reaction did nothing to reassure him, but rather, just the opposite. Sam sat up, and began wildly clutching at his throat, a look of terror clear on his face. Dean never saw Sam like this... as in, NEVER.

He couldn't breathe, Sam wasn't breathing. Dean moved forward, leaning Sam back agianst the wall. "It's okay Sam, hold on... it's okay." he spoke quietly, telling himself that he better be right. He checked Sam's airway, (Cuz I don't know how. LOL) finding nothing that would stop his brother's breathing. He was starting to panic as well... what if he was too late? What if there was nothing he could... No. He wouldn't believe that.

Sam still looked terrified. Maybe that was the problem. He needed to calm Sam down... that was part of the issue... he hoped. "Calm down, Sam. Calm down... You're gonna be okay, I'm gonna fix it, kay?" Dean spoke evenly, glad that his voice didn't show his feelings.

Sam nodded wildly, one hand still grabbing his own throat even as the other pushed against the center of Dean's chest, fingers digging into his brother's shirt. He tried to mimic Dean's breathing, even as the disco ball came back to taunt him. And after a few more long, painful seconds, he took a small, gasping breath. He nodded again, even as brief panic was still settled in his color-changing eyes. He took in another breath, longer this time, tentative, relieved.

Dean also took a relieved breath, letting it out in a long sigh. He gripped Sam's shoulder reassuringly. "There ya go..." he said quietly, thumping his hand on his brother's arm and then sitting next to him, back against the wall. "You're okay," Dean stated, trying to convince himself as much as he was trying to convince Sam.

His eyes drifted to the red-satan-look-alike, dead by the entrance to the cave. "Satan had a feild day with you, didn't he?" Dean asked, attempting humor. It didn't even sound funny to him right in that moment, but it was better than awkward silence.

Sam did his best to glare at Dean, but it just didn't work right in that moment. He pulled his knees up, back curling forward as he took slowly deepening and calming breaths. "Thanks," he gasped, and coughed loudly, a barking, grating sound. Letting out a long sigh, he let his head fall heavily onto his knees, swallowing harshly against his dry throat.

"Sure..." Dean responded quietly, nodding once and leaning his head back against the wall. He let out a sigh. Sam was okay, Satan's twin brother was dead, and they would both live to fight another day, as it were.

Still, as he looked at Sam, he wondered if his brother could make it to the car tonight in the shape he was in. It was miles and miles away from here, and the sun was set, there would be little to no light for them to travel by. The more facts Dean thought of, the better of a plan it was to stay in the cave.

Sam leaned back against the uncomfortable, lumpy, hard cave wall, his boots scrapping against rock as his knees straightened out again. Dizziness washed through him and he momentarily closed his eyes, trying to clear his head and vision again. The twenty-two-ear old opened his eyes again, glancing at Dean before looking across from himself again.

Sam nodded, eyes still closed. Dean said nothing more, knowing that Sam needed rest. Dean kept his eyes locked on the cave entrance and the dead creature. He retrieved his Taurus from the cave floor, holding it ready, just in case he would need to use it.

People always thought he protected Sam because John told him to. That wasn't it. It wasn't like that was all he was good for, and he knew that. It wasn't something he did blindly because he was ordered to. It was a choice. Some people chose to go to school, some people chose to become a race car driver. Dean chose to protect Sam, no matter what... and he would never regret that choice. As long as he lived.


End file.
